


The Illusions of a Life

by Ramzes



Series: Spears of the Sun [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Not For Rhaegar Fans, Rhaegar Won
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: Ashara Dayne's wedding day brings to Dorne joy and the hope of a new beginning. For those who are far away, be it in body or spirit, this isn't exactly so.
Series: Spears of the Sun [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/195818
Comments: 46
Kudos: 34





	1. Elia

Elia woke up early and stared in the darkness with the feeling that today was a very special day. They had lessened the quantity of pain-relieving potions that they gave her and she felt less light-headed, even if more in pain; but even so, she could find no explanation for the joy mingled with sadness that stirred in her heart and tried to make its way to her mind. She lay back and tried to get back to sleep but it was impossible. She could only stare at the pitch-black night – because as soon as she had been able to make her wishes clear, she had forbidden her attendants to let a candle burning at her bedside, fearful that if she succumbed to this relief from her nightly horrors, she would never be able to wean herself off – and wonder what she was failing to grasp.

It was already morning and the women were opening the shutters of her windows when she turned to Magdeen Dalt who had come with her first cup of tea and remembered. It was Ashara’s wedding day. She closed her eyes to shut the dampness off and set her jaw in a firm line.

“I wonder if Ashara’s already awake in the Water Gardens,” Magdeen said, as if reading Elia’s mind. “Oh what am I saying? Of course she is! She’s the bride, after all. I doubt she slept a wink last night.”

“She is sure to be the loveliest bride the sun had ever set its eyes upon,” Elia said honestly and almost jumped when a new voice joined in.

“I am sure Lady Ashara will make a lovely bride but I am equally sure that you were even more beautiful in the day of our wedding.”

 _As beautiful as your Northern queen?_ Elia wondered bitterly, astounded to see Rhaegar. What was he doing here? Lately, he had been respectful of her wishes to keep his distance. Did he have to break this habit today, of all days?

She inclined her head to show respect. “Your Grace,” she said without bothering to acknowledge his compliment. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

For some reason, he looked disappointed – _disappointed_.

“I was hoping we could break our fast together.”

Really? Why? What was he planning to do, establish the Conqueror-like arrangement? With his admiration of the man, Elia shouldn’t be surprised. She didn’t even mind the breakfast part, although she would have much preferred to stay with Magdeen and her other Dornish ladies, talk about Ashara and try to imagine the wedding at the Water Gardens.

But after the breakfast part, another part might come, at night…

Even Aegon had given Visenya one night out of ten. Was that what Rhaegar was planning? Dear gods, no! Not yet! The scabs of her burns had yet to turn to scars. And even if they scarred as early as this afternoon, she didn’t want him in her bed. Not now. Not ever.

He was looking at her with _such_ concern. The perfect knight. The perfect husband.

Elia wanted to retch.

“Are you feeling unwell? Should I call the maesters?”

 _I’ll feel better as soon as you relieve me of your presence._ Of course, she couldn’t say this.

“We can have this breakfast in my solar,” she said.

When he tried to help her rise, she squirmed away from him and looked at Magdeen who rushed to her side, followed by Valina Fowler. Rhaegar stood by and watched helplessly as the Dornish girls helped Elia out of bed. Once again, she had refused his aid.

He wasn’t going anywhere, though, and Elia would have shrugged if it didn’t hurt. _Damn him to the seven hells,_ she thought. _Breaking my fast with him means getting out of bed before they can apply my ointments._ Her skin was burning almost like the day of the great fire. She felt like it was about to just fall off.

The women in the bedchamber started whispering between themselves in a hurry, clearly concerned. Elia seemed to be the only one who didn’t care what Rhaegar would think when he _saw_ her. Even Magdeen, who she had become closer to in the months they had spent as Aerys’ hostages looked uncomfortable.

Ashara would have understood. But Ashara was back in Dorne, back home, getting wed, building a life which Elia would never be a part of. Mother, she wasn’t even a part of Ashara’s wedding day…

She expected to feel some dark gloating at Rhaegar’s horror when he saw the belt of red-brown, thickened, never to go away callus under her breast and down her belly. The mark of fire. The mark of Aerys’ madness and Rhaegar’s neglect. On his part, he looked determined not to look away and not show any reaction. His eyes widened, though, and Elia wondered if it was horror or shame and guilt. She found out that she did not care either way. She only wanted to push through this breakfast so she can have her ointments, see the children and hopefully meet with the septon heading one of the charities she patronized.

She could not refuse his arm, though, when he proffered it. She would just fall. So she took it, despite much preferring Ser Jaime’s support. At least he knew how to move, due to their practice of a month already.

The sight of the rich table didn’t surprise her. Rhaegar didn’t know anything about her day, so he had no idea that these days, she went only with some fruit and a handful of roasted nuts. But he seemed to be counting her bites, expecting her to go for the eggs. That he remembered her favourite food struck her as odd but the feeling was remote, as if it didn’t have anything to do with her. She didn’t even bother telling him that she no longer had a favourite food. Everything tasted of cinders. The smoke had damaged her throat and every bite was painful.

He was talking about their wedding day. Elia barely listened, instead thinking of Ashara, trying to remember the first day the younger girl had been brought to the Water Gardens. At the time, she had not known that the violet-eyed child would become such an important part of her life. And now, this girl was getting wed. A chapter of their life was truly over and the fact that Elia couldn’t be there was a painful reminder of all that was lost. Ashara had been ready to wait but Elia hadn’t wanted to keep her at the ready forever. Who knew when she’d be fit to travel? Besides, she knew for sure that Rhaegar would never let her leave the land where he could control her directly. For all his pretences that all was fine, he knew what a great offence he had given her. He would never run the risk of her not returning. Of losing his leverage against Dorne.

From time to time, she gave an ear to his words and each time, she was surprised at how _naturally_ they sounded. Seated against each other at the table, they looked like any other couple, as if he had not betrayed her in every way possible, as if he had not brought another woman into their marriage, as if he broke his fast every day with her and not his other queen. If she closed her eyes and let her mind drift, she could almost believe the illusion.

Every House of note would be at Ashara’s wedding, Elia knew. Of course, Lord Dayne would lead his sister to the sept. Elia was glad that they had chosen the Water Gardens – if the wedding had been in Starfall, everyone would have talked about the recent birth of the so long expected heir of House Dayne. Lord Dayne had always been considerate…

Once, she had thought the same about Arthur. Angry with herself, she chased him away from her mind. If only she could do the same with Rhaegar…

She would have torn her own skin off if only she could have found the way.

Wasn’t he going to leave? Finally?

“Why are you here, Rhaegar?” she asked finally because she was tired of this charade. There wasn’t even the audience that they should play up to!

He looked uncomfortable. “I know Ashara Dayne is getting wed today and I thought you might need some company.”

His audacity shocked her. What was next, bringing his other wife to _entertain_ her? Perhaps Lyanna Stark – no, Lyanna _Targaryen_ now – could regal her with the glorious tale of Rhaegar demasking her at Harrenhal? Or liven un the atmosphere by pouring wine over someone’s head? Elia’s cousins swore that she did it at Harrenhal.

“I am ready,” she announced. “Excuse me, Your Grace, but I have to go back to my bedchambers. I have an appointment with the septon responsible for that home of aged men at-arms and I haven’t read the documents yet. I…”

“At least someone reads those,” he muttered. “The Seven see that Lyanna thinks she can memorize everything, only to fail everything. You really need to restore to health so you can take care of things.”

Ah. How charming! At one time, this new proof of his concern and loyalties might have concerned her; now, she barely registered the oh so kind sentiment.

The reality of what he had just said seemed to affect him more strongly than it did her. He blushed furiously. “Elia, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to say…”

“You still said it,” Elia replied calmly and he gaped at her, shocked by her lack of concern.

She knew for certain that later – perhaps today or perhaps when she fully recovered – the reality of what had happened would dawn upon her fully. One day, she would have to show some goodwill and readiness to work with Rhaegar to save face, at least, and the throne for Aegon, of course. One day, she would have to listen to what he said and choose her answers accordingly. One day, she would care whether Rhaegar came to her bed because the thought of him touching her made her gag but his lack of desire would be vastly detrimental to her and her children’s standing. But right now, she could only think about the wine she would order for tonight, so she and her Dornish ladies could celebrate Ashara’s nuptials without anyone interfering. Somehow, it looked the only real thing into the illusion she called a life.


	2. Arthur

Arthur was trying to go to sleep – trying to – when the song came. In the beginning, he didn’t even register it, because he had heard it so often as a child, at some point everyone in Dorne must have. It just washed over him with the nice lull of comfort and familiarity. _“Proud Errol sought Lady Alynna out and asked…”_

Then, with a startle, he remembered the difference and sat up, shocked that anyone would dare sing this in the gardens of the Martells’ very palace. Surely no one could be this stupid…? He hurried to the window and stared hard.

“What’s going on? What kind of wretched fool is singing this?”

 _Ah, I was right_ , Arthur thought as the fury and pain in Prince Oberyn’s voice cut through the air, the falling darkness, the song. Arthur could only hope that the poor foolish soul had found the wits to scamper away.

“I thought everyone knew that Prince Doran has forbidden this song in Sunspear and the Water Gardens,” Oberyn went on, right under Arthur’s windows. “Do we need to start with the punishments?”

Arthur closed his eyes. Forbidden? _This_ , he hadn’t expected. He wondered whether his brother had heard it. Whether Lady Dayne had. But how could they have? He was stuck at the farthest end of the living quarters and the Prince of Dorne had not even bothered to pretend that he was doing it because there was no room. Not that there was. All of Dorne had come to celebrate the renewal, the new beginning… the closing off? _But this is Rhaegar’s problem_ , Arthur thought angrily. If the lords and ladies of the realm had gotten used too much to Dornish luxury goods and Prince Doran didn’t feel like he was working with friends, in the face of the King and his Small Council, Rhaegar could come here and fix his mess himself. To him, they would at least talk. This far, no one had talked to Arthur, bar the minimal courtesy: not his sister and his brother, not his friends, now former friends, not the man he had been fostered with, who had given him his knighthood. Since he had received no orders in what unspoken message he should convey, he didn’t feel obliged to go to and sup in the great hall. People might think that he was hiding but well, that was exactly what he was doing. And he intended to do so tomorrow, on the day of Ashara’s wedding. Grudgingly, she had decided that not inviting him would cause an even greater scandal and rumours to their House – but he wasn’t invited to join the family, gain a prominent place, do anything that would mark him as something more than what he was – a Kingsguard. A King’s messenger.

The sounds of _Lord Errol and Lady Alynna the Doe_ had died away. A moment later, Oberyn Martell strode down the gravely path running along the beds of flowers that were hungrily drinking the water poured by the gardeners over them. Their eyes met and Arthur recoiled, stricken by the fury and sorrow on Oberyin’s mobile features.

Upon seeing him, the Prince’s lips drew back in a snarl but he went on his way without seeking conflict.

A slight movement near the trees drew Arthur’s attention there. Slowly, slowly, Lady Dayne, his new goodsister, emerged from the darkness. There was only one path, so she had to go near Arthur, whom she had studiously avoided.

They stared at each other, he from the inside, she from the outside, separated by a window sill and an ocean of detachment.

“You heard,” Arthur said, to his own surprise.

From this close, he could see that the face that so resembled Elia’s was just as tired, pale, drawn as Elia’s when she had first left her bed after Rhaenys’ birth. Was this a new mother thing? Arthur felt the sudden desire to protect her, and she was just a childhood friend, a woman who now hated him. How had Rhaegar not felt the same towards his own lady wife?

Not that Arthur had done any better.

Alynna Dayne nodded. “If Oberyn had realized I was there, the poor man singing this would have paid,” she said. “He was just working, he didn’t realize but…”

 _But._ Arthur could see that her eyes were reddened. How often had she sung this song for Lord Gargalen, her uncle and goodfather? He loved it because, just like in the song, she was Alynna and her husband, Errol.

“I remember the last time I saw Elia before – well, before,” Alynna suddenly said. “We were all joyful but we knew she had to leave for Dragonstone soon – she had just discovered that she was with child, Aegon. I remember that night so clearly – it was here, not in Sunspear, and Aunt Arianne was better, and Uncle Mikkel had me sing _Lord Errol and Lady Alynna the Doe_ …” There were tears in her voice and they slowly ran down her exhausted, grey face.

Arthur remembered this night as well – the last night with the friends of his childhood, the last night he had still been regarded as a Dornishman. But he had not known this. He remembered Errol Gargalen, dead for almost two years now, Errol with the silver hair and indigo eyes and for a horrible moment wondered if his friendship with Rhaegar had not started on an illusion. If he had not looked at Rhaegar and seen Errol. He had wanted glory, yes, but it had been so lonely there, at King’s Landing.

Alynna was staring at him with sad wonder. “You know,” she said, her voice still unnaturally calm, “I remember you as a good friend of Errol’s. As someone who loved Elia and was fond of Naeryn even after your affair ended. He’d never let anyone say anything that would upset either, I used to think. I’m looking at you and I can’t believe you’re the same person.”

Arthur looked away. “I made a mistake, Alynna,” he said and for a mad moment wondered if she’d believe him if he just told her the truth but then she stirred and the illusion that they were still friends, kind of, dissipated as the moon and the torches in his chamber met right in the centres of her narrowed, hostile eyes.

“Arthur,” she said. “Tell this to someone who cares.”

 _You shouldn’t have made the journey from Starfall_ , he thought as she swayed but he knew that if he reached out to steady her, she wouldn’t take it well.

“And please,” Alynna added. “If you’re thinking of doing something to disturb the day tomorrow, _don’t_.”

The insult stung. “What do you take me for? Do you really think I’d do anything to upset Ashara?”

“I don’t know what to think when it comes to you,” she replied coldly. “I am not sure just how far your king’s delusions have rubbed on you. Ashara told me you looked horrible and horrified when she traveled to King’s Landing but you seem to have overcome whatever hardships life has thrown your way.”

The worst thing was, she meant it. She truly believed that he didn’t care for what he had done to Elia, what he had done to their homeland, what he had done to his siblings, what he had done to the standing of their House. She expected him to spend his entire life mentally and physically broken before she could possibly, just possibly start entertaining the thought that he cared, that he had regrets, that he had been shocked to realize how quickly everything had spiraled out of his hands. That was the price and Alynna, and Dorne, would never accept less.

Anger swept him with force that he had not felt in months. Who did she think she was to speak about overcoming hardships with such disdain? She had loved Errol Gargalen with all her heart but less than a year after his death, she had married another man, young and handsome, and a lord in his own right and not just the heir of one. She might weep at the song all she wanted but she had left Errol behind while demanding that Arthur remained stuck in the past.

But of course, none of that past was of her own making. While part of it was Arthur’s.

“Don’t do anything to spoil the day,” Alynna said again. “She has lived through too many disappointments already, for someone so young.”

She didn’t exactly say it and she probably didn’t even mean to make any hint but her hand rubbed her belly and Arthur went cold. The babe. He had always dismissed the rumours that Ashara had been with child as simple gossip of jealous women whom he, unfortunately, could hardly challenge to a duel. Even the fact that she had left Elia’s service could be explained with myriads of other reasons. But she had been, she had been carrying a child and he had never known.

Once again, he had failed someone he held dear.

But how? Who? Had it been at Harrenhal? Gods help him, had it been _Rhaegar_ , trying for his new head of the dragon? But no, Ashara had left before Elia gave birth to Aegon, so Rhaegar would not have known that he would not get his precious third head from her.

 _If I once again think of that third head, I’m going to bash my head against the wall and put an end to it all, A_ rthur thought before wondering who the scoundrel in need of killing was. But of course, he couldn’t even do this. He had left Ashara to navigate life at court on her own despite remembering how hard it had been for him and she had gotten burned. He could hardly kill the father of her babe now without ruining her life.

He couldn’t even do this.

All he could do was close this window, sit back at the table, think about the song that was now forbidden in the Martell’s own seat, rise for a wedding where he had no particular place and certainly no part, don his white cloak because no one would suffer him in the colours of his House and watch Ashara entering her new life before returning to King’s Landing to call Rhaegar’s mistress queen, look at Elia who was being held back from Dorne and was no longer Dorne at Rhaegar’s court, maintain the illusion of his honour. And the illusion of his life while everyone else kept living somehow. Even Alynna Gargalen. Everyone except for him. And Elia. And the dead.

Almost everyone.


End file.
